IF A MAN DIE, SHALL HE LIVE AGAIN?
I stood beside the tomb
Of buried love, to weep,
Within my soul a gloom
Impenetrably deep;
My heart was buried with my dead,
And bitter were the tears I shed. “Tell me, if a man die,
Oh, shall he live again?”
I asked; but no reply
Came to my heart and brain.
“Speak! for this hope I crave;”
But all was “silent as the grave.” To Nature then I turned:
“Oh, tell me, I implore,
Have we no lessons learned
From out thy bounteous store?
Do not the butterfly and flower
Proclaim a resurrection power?” “Nay, mourner, not in me
Doth this rare wisdom dwell;
For of the mystery
Nor leaves nor flowers can tell.
These give the faintest simile,
But prove not immortality.” To Science next I spoke:
“Say, shall the dead arise?”
A voice the silence broke;
I raised my tear-dimmed eyes,
But Science said, “’Tis not in me
To fathom immortality.” With sages wise I wrought
Earth’s secrets to unlock;
Amid the depths I sought
Replies in ancient rock;
The hieroglyphics graven there
Brought no relief to my despair. Then upward to the sky
Through realms of endless space,
From sun to sun, my eye
Sought a reply to trace.
Alas, no answer came to me
From out the vast infinity. Vain search for hope or cheer,
O Christ, away from thee!
“Come, troubled soul, draw near,
And thou shalt find in me
The resurrection and the life;
Mourner, believe, and cease thy strife.”